


O Captor, My Captor

by AlienStarlight



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Eridan Ampora/Sollux Captor Kismesissitude, Hemospectrum, M/M, Multi, Other, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlienStarlight/pseuds/AlienStarlight
Summary: It's the ending of a sweeps-long War that began in the depths of quiet formations and subtle rebellion, first having erupted on the day of a certain mutantblood's wriggling-birth. Two trolls in particular dance around each other even as they did as rivals in war, albeit verbally instead.Warning: Eridan portrayed as asshole, somewhat ruthless former soldier of Condesce, and a bit unhinged as a prisoner of the Rebellion. Sollux portrayed somewhat more in control than original character. Both older and supposedly more mature. Enemies/potential kismeses complications. Unhealthy black romance brewing. (bottom!sollux)Mentioned other relationships: Arasol, pale solkat, red karnep. One mentioned original character (goldblood).Sollux POV.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A short exchange between one former-spy-turned-psionic-soldier Captor and his prisoner and former-psionic-hunting-imperial-officer Ampora.

The corridor is dank and barely-lit, only the occasional glow of jade embedded in mud walls. The muffled sound of your worn sneakers carrying you on the earthen floor is the only thing that can be heard, soft though it is. 

Your name is Technoblast, but you also go by The PsiiSpy in some circles because you are the powerful psiionic spy who masqueraded as a low-functioning mutant yellowblood for sweeps before your exposure. 

And you are currently about to pay a very interesting visit. This isn't the first visit down here to this particular troll, but it will be the visit you get to deliver the news your entire found family has dreamed of being true for sweeps. 

As you reach it, a larger smattering of glowing gems lights the end of the corridor, which opens out into what you know is a roughly-hewn stairway descending into complete darkness. Time to light up. 

The crackle of your psionics, directed thinly around you but mostly before your feet, joins the noise of your descent. The lurking chasm below is now filled with the sound as well as light and warmth of it. 

You know it always warns him of your arrival. 

Sure enough, you hardly reach the bottom before you hear the telltale rattling of metal bars. He doesn't speak, however. 

You squint around, flaring up more to locate the damn lamps. Much-needed light floods the area when you do. 

"Well, fuckin' back are ya?"

Calmly setting a lamp back on its holder, you turn to the end of the cavernous room that has been solidly sealed off. 

"You know I always come back."

He hadn't even bothered to get up, lounging on the raised slab of ruined cushions and butchered pillows. His claws were still wrapped around the metal bars, but he'd stopped trying to wring them out. 

You hate how painfully your bloodpusher speeds up just at the sight of him. 

"And what's the goal this time, Sol?" He sneers at you lazily, one boot over a knee and planted against the end wall of his prison. "Gonna lisp at me again about the atrocities of my misdeeds? Offer me a laughably low place in your filthy Rebellion? Threaten to end-"

"Oh my gog, Ampora," you snap, losing your patience the way you always inevitably do around him. "Please, shut the fuck up."

He comes to life then, awful sharp teeth bared in a superior grin, and he sits up to look at you. You feel your cheeks warm; you find yourself wondering for the millionth time in your miserable life since his capture- does he even know how different you'd become as an adult? Almost as if the life was sucked out of you after ten sweeps, somehow within the next sweep you'd found the blessed self-control and lack of giving a shit to not rise to the bait of every shitty troll around you. It had been vital to your survival, but more importantly your act and your role to the Rebellion. 

You'd matured, calmed down, wised up. But every time you get within twenty feet of Eridan Ampora, he unravels you in one tug, back to the helplessly angry, unstable and irate seven-sweep-old you'd been before. 

You hate it. 

"What'sa matter, Sol?" His voice is almost velvety. "Are the lowblood rabble having a bad day? Wiped out, perhaps? Or did they lose their _disgusting_ mutantblood leader?"

"...You wish." The hatred in his voice hits you the way it always does, as if you hadn't expected it when it's truly all you expect from him. You survey him carefully, dancing on the idea of just telling him now and leaving. You already regret coming down here. 

"Well, what is it then? Finally decided to spill noble blood?"

You take a moment to even out your breathing, pretending to stare into the flames of the lantern. "We've talked about your hemo-obsession, Eridan. And I said that we wouldn't kill you. So if you do get culled by a rebel, it at least won't be me."

He snorts then, but you've been nothing but honest to him all along so he's used to your candid statements. 

"Why don't you slice open these bars with your _techno_ lights and we'll see how well you keep that promise."

You roll your eyes. "Well, if you're stupid enough to attack someone who said they wouldn't kill you..."

"The only reason I'm not decorating the place with yellow is because of these bars, Captor."

"Eridan. You still just want to cull me?" You keep your question as calm as his last statement had been. You know you can take him down easy, not because he hadn't became highly skilled at battling psychics and psionics but because his meagre diet that he sometimes downright refused to eat meant he wasn't that nourished (although highblood strength is formidable even in weakness). 

He stares at you coldly, and you thank the dimness because even now the cut of his seadweller eyes is sharp. You remain impassive, however, and he looks away in annoyance. 

"I don't know, Sol, you still want to break me in here?"

"You're the one who said we might come to an understanding-"

"Regarding my fuckin' freedom," he growls, shaking the bars again angrily. "Don't fucking lie to me, pissblood, you've had me in here for how long! If you nookstains think I can be broken this way, you're gonna be waiting your whole pathetically short lifetimes!"

You sigh. "Look, Eridan, you know that Wrathful wasn't going to spare you-" _even if he didn't necessarily want to have you culled either..._ "but I asked him to give you imprisonment instead of death, and you can curse at me about it all you want, _but_ even in your twisted thinkpan I think you're not too angry at being alive. We're not trying to break you, because the only trolls who care about you being here are Huntress and Necromancer, and that's because they're wary about...your ongoing death threats."

He says nothing. 

"You don't have to believe me, I really don't care. I jus-"

"Why didn't you have me culled, anyway?"

You sigh again, and involuntarily look him over. He's still dressed in that horrible Commander uniform, torn and dirty and worn though it is, because he had demanded to have it back after being strip-searched, and refused to trade it in for anything cleaner. It's disgusting, but you think the style and cut of the clothing actually suits him. 

"Hello, Alternia to Captor?"

"We've been over this," you say irritably, crossing your arms. "I thought you might have an honest change of heart once Feferi takes over."

Instead of getting sour like he does every single time you mention her, the violetblood just grins. You raise an eyebrow. 

"...What?"

"That's a load of hoofbeastshit, that's what."

"Wha-"

"I think you had a very different reason for putting me down here, Sol," he downright purrs, and you fight the overwhelming urge to step back even though he's literally behind bars. "See, I couldn't figure it out for the longest time because you never made a move on me."

You feel your mouth drop open slightly, but surely he couldn't be that presumptious. 

"Then it became so very clear," he says, and tries to reach out to you through the gaps, the rings he prized so much still adorning his gritty fingers. "You weren't interested in taking me like that."

"Damn right I wasn't-"

His extended fingers suddenly curl in on themselves, taut. "You wanted _me_ to take _you_."

His words slap you in the face, an action he didn't get to take himself, and you are rendered speechless. A silence wavers between the two of you, his expectant expression completely serious (if mildly smug) and yours probably a flurry of emotions underlined by incredulity. 

"...That's it, isn't it Sol? You finally realized where you rightfully belong in a quadrant with nobility like myself. And you're wishing now that you hadn't turned me down all those sweeps a-"

"Stop, oh gog, shut up Ampora!" 

He's laughing at you now and you suddenly realize why. You're sparking up, you can't help it, because this situation is weird and it's _him_ and you're panicking although you're not sure why. It's true that you think of that last fight between the two of you before you barely managed to subdue him (and only because AA decided at the last minute to give you a helping hand against the known Psiionic Subduer). It's true that your mind lingers on those moments he slammed you down beneath him and made shitty suggestive comments even during battle- but no, you certainly weren't that delusional. 

No way. Besides, you already have a prospective-

Wait. 

"Fuck off, Ampora, you pervert. I already have a budding kismesis."

That definitely shut him up. 

"Oh, really?" You can tell he tries to be nonchalant but the literal snarl ruins it. You smile, back in control. 

"That's right," you say cheerfully. "And just in case you're demented enough to believe I spared your life to force you into any of my other quadrants, well, Necromancer is my matesprit and Wrathful, of course, my moirail."

He screws up his face in disgust. "You're papping Kar's mutant ass _and_ you're still dating the rustblood?"

"Well, unlike you, I found a matesprit for life," you say shortly and savour the resulting storm on his face. 

"And who, pray tell, is your worthy blackmate? I hope he's spilling your blood at least."

"She," you say smoothly. You know you probably shouldn't be telling him so much, but in light of recent events...

"Oh? Kidnapped her too, did you?"

"No, you chucklefuck, she's a mustardblood psiionic like me," you think fondly of the girl who gives you a run for your money when it comes to psionic power and piloting aircraft. You did have her beat in technological prowess, though, but she had other talents valuable to the Rebellion's attacks... 

"Equal ground," he says quietly, bringing you back. You study him cautiously, your broiling emotions simmering down at the sight of his thoughtful countenance. 

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," you murmur, rubbing the back of your head. It was actually kind of fucked up that the one person you found who is so uncannily alike to you, is the one person you were sliding into a kismesissitude with. You also decide not to mention that you and her keep vaccilating between black and red and pale, because that is nobody else's business, definitely not Eridan's. 

"Well," he says and it's carefully masked again. "That's a pity, Sol, I was ready to thrash your lowblood nook into the next perigree."

You sputter indignantly even as he moves to sit back on his bed-slab. "You- I- did you think I was going to let you out!"

He shrugs. "Let me out, get creative through the bars... maybe come in yourself and get what's coming to you."

"A culling?" Your voice is sardonic and sharp. 

He laughs, and the edge of it makes you tense. "I wouldn't cull ya, Sol, not in that circumstance, it'd be too lowly. Besides, I'd be lying if I said I'd turn down the opportunity to just fuck someone's brains out right about now."

_He's trying to get to you, he's just trying to get to you..._

You swallow to alleviate your awfully dry throat. _"Why didn't you have me culled, anyway?"_ It had truly been some vague form of sympathy, at first...but... 

"And if it's the twinkling bastard who put me in here in the first place, well, all's the better for me aye?"

"Jegus..."

"But I suppose you'd prefer to keep up that nice little spat you've got going with your pissblood girl. Two mutant yellows, that's gotta make a hot little spitfire nest, huh?"

Your face flushes so warm you might as well be sparking. You have the feeling that this bastard was imagining things between you and your potential hatemate. 

"...You better not be thinking about what I think you're thinking about, you sick fishfuck."

"Oh, I'll be thinking about it a lot, Captor." He has the fucking gall to smirk at you. "It's not like I have anything else to do in here, if you know what I mean..."

"Fuck off, Ampora!" You turn on your heel and start stomping towards the stairs because you swear if you have to look at him any longer, you're going to fry him. 

"Captor!" His voice is urgent, now, commanding. "Hold your fuckin' seahorses-"

"Nah, fuck you," you snap back, ascending the first couple of steps. 

"Sol," he calls out seriously, more urgent than before but with a surprisingly pleading note. "Stop! I was just fucking joking! How long are you gonna leave me here for this time?"

The bitterness stops you in your tracks, but you're still pissed. 

"Until you learn not to be a complete ass?"

"You know damn well I'm not ever playing nice with you or your dirty lowblood lot. You gonna just bury me under here to rot?"

"You know what, Eridan? I think I will. You obviously don't give a shit about anything I've been trying to do for you. So fuck you."

With that, you're off, news undelivered, fists trembling at your sides, Ampora's furious yells echoing in the chasm all the way til you're far enough to not hear it. 

\--


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain ex-spy pays a certain prisoner a visit after a long time. A reasonably tense exchange follows. 
> 
> Do I know where this is going? No... But the only thing that keeps me writing is the hope that someone else likes this, so thanks for reading.

The next time you find yourself walking back down the familiar trail, because yes there is a next time, it's almost six perigrees later. It isn't even that Ampora had offended or pissed you off that much; it was the fact that you'd not delivered the vital news, and Karkat eventually had, that kept you from visiting again sooner. 

Having finally prised out of you the general line of conversation that happened during your visit to Eridan, Wrathful had shaken his head and said he'd go down there himself to deliver the news when he could spare the time. You hadn't stopped him; even though you knew how much worse Ampora was with the others, the point here was that you were willing to leave the bastard in the dark about something so relevant. You weren't as collected as you had to be, not around _him_. You'd decided that Wrathful would be the better deliverer. 

So he had gone, along with Huntress, to inform Ampora. You heard later that the seadweller didn't take it very well. 

You'd decided to stay away after that. There was of course the other reason, the accusation he'd made about you wanting him to rail you senseless (utter hoofbeastshit, of course), but you always swept it out of your mind before you could really contemplate it. 

Now, however, you remember as you make your way down the rough stairway. You're here on a mission. Her Imperial Compassion, newly crowned Empress, had requested of you, in person, to offer Eridan a controlled visit with her and gauge the suitability of his reaction to it. 

You are probably one of the few trolls who would dare to deny her point-blank and get away with it, but after everything she's been through, the fact that she is still healing from some of her wounds after all this time has passed... You'd thought that this was a small favour easily done. 

Now you're kicking yourself mentally. 

He doesn't make a sound as you descend among the crackle of your psionics, and it should unnerve you, but all you feel is a sort of detachment. You reach the bottom, your sparks thinning as you light a lamp. This time, he already had some light in the form of a small glowbuzz lantern made of paper within his bars, harmless enough. You have a strange feeling that Kanaya has been coming down here... 

"You."

Your eyes snap towards him, even as you suddenly realize you'd been avoiding looking into the elongated cell. He's perched on his slab, back leaning against a wall and it feels so strange that you hadn't seen that in so long. You take a deeper breath as subtly as possible and focus on him. 

DeathGlow has definitely paid him a visit. You can't imagine anyone else successfully having transformed him from the unkempt, unhinged troll you'd last seen: his stupid Commander uniform is still on, but it at least looks clean if extremely worn. The buttons of his top are undone and you can see the bright white of his undershirt even in this lighting. His hair is a lot neater, shorter, and the violet streak as impeccable as it had been before he was made prisoner. 

He looks, quite frankly, like he'd had a damn bath. And his cell seemed a lot more comfortable, actual soft cushions littered about and- were those books? 

Definitely Kanaya. 

"Well?" His voice is even, but it's just above a growl. There's a rigidity in his posture that betrays his anger. "Are you just gonna stand there and stare?"

"Still a happy camper, I see," your voice is expressionless, you're still hovering just beyond the reality of this situation. Wow, you must really not want to be here, considering the number and variety of situations you managed to handle before as a spy. 

"Ecstatic." It's cutting, but the glare he allows onto his face now is worse. He doesn't make a move to get up. "What do you want?"

You clear your throat, feeling a little more rooted as you think of what FF asked you to do for her. It evens out the discomfort in your stomach from having to stare back at such resentful seadweller eyes. You'd expected him to be mad at you for not having told him while you were last there, of course, but Eridan usually has a way of refurbishing his anger, making it run cold and hit like ice. The temperature you're getting now, however, is boiling hot under a thin film. 

"I have...a proposition to discuss with you, on behalf of Her Imperial Compassion," you start, voice a practiced formal. He moves forward at that, still glaring at you, before turning his face to the side. You can tell he's thinking. 

"She wished me to convey it to you in person, and deliver the response you saw fit to give."

He gets up then, finally, and wraps a hand loosely around one of the bars. The expression on his face has changed to thoughtful, curious. Any trace of hostility gone-

Or hidden. You can still see the set of his shoulders, tense, an anger restrained. 

"How interesting." He pauses, and then you're being surveyed once more, and even he can't hide the subtle changes in his demeanour towards you. "The one thing to bring you back down here, and it had to be Peixes herself."

You blink, thrown off a little by the course of response he decided to take. Frowning, you forget your nerves and meet his gaze. 

"I-"

"Then again, you never could say no to her, could you Sol? And not even because of her hue, as it should be."

"What is with your fixation on the hemospectrum, Ampora?" You snap, crossing your arms. You hate that he knows how deeply you are invested in the happiness of the new Empress, he knows because he witnessed the beginning of the bond himself, many sweeps ago. 

He studies you for a minute, and then something in his countenance seems to relax. He grins. 

"What happened to Megido, Sol? Lifelong matesprit, wasn't she?"

You raise an eyebrow. "She is, yes."

He looks confused then, momentarily. 

"Ampora, what are you-"

"...Kan said that Peixes acquired a new matesprit. Someone I knew?"

Oh. You smile, despite yourself. 

"Serket. A terrible choice, if you ask me, but I daresay she's really grown into FF's red quadrant. The Empress is...well, a patient troll."

He looks utterly flabbergasted, and you actually move closer to the bars as he walks uncertainly back to his slab. 

"Fuckin' _Vriska_?"

"Yeah," you say cautiously. Now that you think about it, DeathGlow had probably kept the identity from him for a reason. Damn it, you're being slow today. 

"I don't fuckin' believe it," he lets out a hollow laugh. "Of all the fuckin' trolls out there, she falls for _Vriska_?"

"Well..." Your fingers curl around the bars this time. It's not like you pity him or anything, gross- you just feel slightly sympathetic. "She did help with sabotaging Condescension's plans by transporting FF around whenever she needed to run. Kind of dedicated herself to the task, really, considering she keeps up all her old bullshit."

"Yeah, I bet she does," he says bitterly. "I thought she was at least somewhat loyal to the fuckin' Empire."

"She's loyal to _this_ Empire." Your volume rises pointedly and he looks up at you. "...She kind of has to be now, openly."

"...Matesprits." He shakes his head, but then surprisingly cracks a grin at you. "Guess she was just another undercover double-crosser, like you hmm?"

"I don't think..." You hesitate, seriously thinking about it. "She wouldn't count as an undercover or double agent. Technically she was running her own ship and borderline following Empire orders. But yeah I guess she's a double-crosser, pretty much."

He rises from the slab, and approaches where you are on the opposite side of his prison. You notice his steely eyes and fleetingly consider withdrawing, but it's not like you're afraid of the bastard. 

"So I guess that means all of your quadrants are intact, Captor?"

 _Gog_. Your face is warming up as the two of you just stare at each other, and it's not even that intense for once. You don't really have to answer him but what the hell. 

"Not that it's your business, you finned creep, but AA is still my matesprit." You lick your lips before continuing. "Though I do have a new moirail."

He closes the rest of the distance between himself and the bars you're restlessly tapping your fingers against. You look at him sharply in warning. 

"You and Kar split?"

Oh right, he had a thing for KK sweeps ago before he decided to commit his life to killing him. Well, that's a shitfest you hope he isn't stupid enough to try stirring up. 

"Yeah..turns out winning a war without dying changes a few things. He's still one of my most...relentless... friends, but we think-"

"You kept vaccilating, didn't you?"

Gog, he remembers. 

"...Yeah," you admit, barely registering how close Ampora is to you when his face inches forward. "Black. And my kismesis kept vaccilating pale, so, I guess it worked out for the best. Turns out she and I would rather pap away our shared insecurities than keep going at each other's throats..."

"Adorable," he says sarcastically. That brings you back to the present, and you refocus on him in annoyance. "You get to keep your mustard girl too, what a treat."

You open your mouth to testily demand why he's so obsessed with a troll he's never met, but he cuts you off. 

"But if she's your new moirail, does that mean nobody is kickin' your intolerable ass?"

You want to retort at him, you really do, but there's something about the way his violet pupils are trained on you, his heavy lids barely hiding a quarter of them, something about the way his face seems naturally impassive even though the question is such a bare one. 

An automatic snarky reply does not come to mind, a rare occurrence. You really hate how he does this sort of shit to you. 

"No," he says softly, answering his own damn question. You glower at him. The sudden cold feel of highblood skin and metal makes you glance down to see he's curved his ringed fingers around yours on the bars. You bristle but still don't withdraw. 

"You know, Sol, my magnanimous offer to rip you apart still stands." He's got that old smirk back on, but his eyes glitter dangerously. "Even if you did leave me here to rot for so long."

"I- you- don't be so dramatic, fish-dick," you exclaim, mentally cringing at employing the old goading nickname. Damn him, damn him, damn him! You're falling into his gogawful trap. You try to slide your hands out from under his but he digs his untrimmed claws in, making you wince slightly. 

"Dramatic?" He hisses. "You were the one with the melodrama, Sol, fuckin' abandoning me here just because I inquired after your pissblood girl."

"That's not why I've been away, you total fucking dumbass." Not that you're about to tell him the actual truth, either. "I've just been busy after the Uprising's win."

"I'm sure you have, pissblood," he sneers. "How many of the noblebloods have you been attackin'?"

"That's so not the fucking point of the Rebellion, Ampora, and you know it-"

"Don't fuckin' lie. To the victor goes the spoils-" 

"Barbaric highblood bullshit!" You yell, incensed. Your psionics spark angrily as you remember every coldblooded bastard you'd had to disarm during the war, how many fancy weapons had trained on you on the battlefield, how many days you suffered completely frail and spent hoping that your psionics recover before the dusk. 

How each second needed hyperfocusing, not least because you couldn't be distracted by the thought that your friends might be dying around you. 

And before that, to the establishment you worked for undercover as a barely-functional weak psionic, the cold superiors who glanced at you with scorn, even touched you without your consent. While you were betraying them all under their upturned noses, concocting new malware and spyware and building vital new tech for the Rebellion from scratch, stealing information and sending out concealed warnings. 

"You trynna burn holes in my eyes?" He laughs, and it's so tempting to just blast him and his stupid claws off of you. You had zoned out for a moment there.

"Fuck you, Ampora," you say, channeling just enough electricity through your skin to sting his fingers. He finally loosens on your hands and you snatch them back. 

"Come on, Sol," he says, and you can _hear_ his desire to do things to you. "Just let me show you what I woulda done if you'd been my prisoner instead."

You repress a traitorous shudder, closing your eyes and willing yourself to calm down. Pitch has risen in your veins, real black feeling unhampered by dormant rosy tints. You hate this seadweller to the moons and back.

"I came here," you finally get out, opening your still glowing eyes, "to deliver a fucking message. You will listen to it, you will indicate that your twisted thinkpan has comprehended it, and then you will give me your stupid response."

"...Fine," he says, but he's still smirking. Gog, you _hate_ him. You draw another breath to ensure you don't break out into sparks again out of pure black feeling. 

"...Eridan Ampora, you were once the friend and childhood companion of the Empress herself. She wishes me to tell you that she does not forget that, nor your...prior sense of duty regarding the feeding of her lusus."

"Gog, that's so long ago now..." He says lazily, but your sharp eyes detect a definite change in his overall composure. He's listening, and subtly he seems almost reeled in by her opening sentence. 

"Even if you were, if I may personally add, a gogawful terrible friend to her."

He scowls and you barely stop the grin from forming on your face. 

"Deliver the fuckin' message and keep your shit thoughts to yourself!"

"Heh, anyway. She also would like to relay that your choice of...career, as it were, after you had ceased contact with her, greatly disappoints her. She hopes that maybe you took the path to secretly help survivors in the culling of the lowbloods, to spare some of the psychic and psionic suspected Rebels."

He turns away from you then, and there's a palpable new emotion in his conflicted face: shame. You feel a wash of cold go through you, and are reminded of who exactly he is, who he'd started to become after all of you turned nine sweeps old. The foolishness of your tendency to fall back into the patterns between you when you were both seven sweeps, despite the fact that you are both much, much changed. You pull yourself together shakily. 

"...Obviously not."

He ignores you, staring at the end wall.

"Anyway, Her Imperial Compassion would also like to add that your turning a blind eye to her presence on the Cilpae Moon during an organized search for her, is something she does appreciate."

He jerks back towards you then, and one end of your mouth pulls upwards faintly.

"She told you about that?!"

"She told us all ages ago, dipshit. The Rebellion's been in frequent encrypted contact with her all along."

You think his face grows darker, the glow lantern in his cell too dim to make out the violet flush. 

"I actually uh, have no idea what she's talkin' about."

"Eridan, you fucking moron, she _saw_ you staring right at her. TV saw you, too."

"Oh. Right. Him."

You hurry on, not wanting to divert Ampora's attention back to quadrants, especially not the solid old moiraillegiance between FF and TV that he was sure to be jealous of. 

"Anyway! Her final point in this missive is that she thinks it may be serendipitous that you've been kept alive and imprisoned by us since the NorthStar Clash."

You briefly stop because he's pressing his face against the bars, looking at you with an expression you can't read. 

"....What?"

"Thanks to you, right Sol?" It sends a chill down your spine. "Not that I blame Wrathful for wanting to do his duty and off me."

"...KK doesn't have the same violent ideas you have, Ampora."

"But he wanted to."

"That's- that's not the point here." You hurriedly return to your mental script, trying to shake off the stare he's still giving you. Gog knows you'd questioned your own stupid request to keep Ampora alive too many times for your sanity. 

"With all of the above in mind, Her Imperial Compassion believes it may be beneficial for both parties to hold a meeting. She extends an invitation to you for a monitored visit to her, an opportunity to speak in your defense personally and perhaps even to work under the new Empire in remorse of your previous misdeeds."

"Remorse? But this is what war-"

"Eridan." You voice is vibrating in fury, psionics flaring. He silences. "Will you please shut the fuck up and put aside your damned psychopathic ego for once in your shitty life."

"You're one to talk!" He's rattling the bars so loudly it echoes. "So my options here are to meet the new fuckin' Empress and play nice, or stand trial. Right?"

You zap at the bars, enough voltage to shock him from touching them. He lets go with a yelp, then aims a blow at them and growls at you, fins flaring aggressively. 

"Yes, Eridan, you either take the merciful chance she's handing you on a silver fucking platter," you snarl at him, moving forwards in anger, sparks surrounding you. Ampora bares his teeth and turns away from you. "Or wait for your eventual war crimes trial, like many of your supremacist highblood comrades. There's so many of you _remorseless_ murderers, what's one more make?"

The trials had just started, and are now well underway even as more old names are being hunted down and rounded up. Terezi Pyrope, although having not definitively picked a side during the war, was one of those spearheading the Legislacerators who as a majority remained in office even under this new government. Overthrowing an entire regime is no easy feat, even with the undeniable right that comes with Feferi's lineage. It had taken a few perigrees to get the more vital functions of government to transition accordingly, without disrupting the daily life of mass society too adversely. 

Still, many trolls are partying in the streets with reckless abandon and riots are breaking out everywhere between dissenters. FF just didn't have the time to be offering out personal escapes for old ex-moirails like ED, yet she's doing it. Doesn't he realize how simple his choice is? 

"Still with me, Ampora?"

"Never left, pissblood." He sneers back at you, but you can tell the wheels are turning in his head. He's still got his back turned to you, arms folded. Your nails dig into your palm as you force yourself to wait it out without saying anything further. 

It is not your place to convince this idiot to take the offer, in fact you should be dissuading FF from bothering with such an infamous seadweller Commander from Condescension's fleets. You should have finished him off after AA gave you a hand in that battle to save her matesprit from capture. You should have let KK eventually decide on his proper punishment, bearing in mind the lives taken by his crew. You should've done anything, you fear deep in your bloodpusher, but spare him and now deliver him this break from retribution. This possible future of melding back into new troll society. 

What the fuck have you been doing. 

"Well." His voice yanks you back, and you're shaking, in the beginnings of one of your episodes. He doesn't notice at first, though he turns around slowly, still musing. "I suppose this is a charitable thing, and uh, I might be willing to take her up on it. I suppose."

"Oh. Really."

"Yes, it'd be unintelligent of me to refuse..." He stops speaking, but you're not looking at him. "Sol, are you alright?"

You snigger uncontrollably then, a dreadful sound. You haven't felt like this in the company of others in quite a while, you should probably leave. A solid matesprit and efficient moirails have always been the only ones to see you like this in your adulthood. 

"Sol? What the fuck, why are you tremblin' like that?"

"Because, Ampora, you're a fucking murderer." You spit out, still not looking at him. "And I might have... I, I-"

His voice sounds closer. "You what?"

"How many of my kind did you grab by the horns and choke to death, Eridan?" You ask loudly and you swear you can feel him flinch. "How many of Aradia's hue did you shoot in the bloodpusher? And Tav, how many of his kind did you sell into slavery?"

He moves to sit on his stupid cushions, a comfort DeathGlow should not have bestowed upon him. 

"Sol," he starts, and for once his unyielding, stubborn confidence seems to waver along with his voice. You hold your breath, waiting for something, anything, to make the wrenching in your chest stop. After a beat, he begins speaking in a rare tone you hadn't heard him use for a long time. 

"Most of the lowbloods, to be fair, we took as prisoners. The ones who fought back-"

"You met lowbloods who didn't fight back?"

He's quiet for a moment. "There are all sorts, in every hue on the spectrum. Lots who just wanted to live."

"Did you spare them?" Your psionics are burning throughout your being, singing your skin in the effort to contain an outburst. 

"We spared most. It was Rebels we were supposed to collect for the Empress," he says stoicly, but hesitates. "-Or dispose of."

"Dispose of..."

"Sol," his careless tone fails and there's that pleading note in his voice again like last time when you stormed off, more apparent than ever. "It was war. How many highbloods did you shock to death?"

"Twenty-seven."

The sound of him gripping the bars again finally, finally gets you to look up at him. He's incredulous. 

"You _counted_?"

"Of course I did," you snap back. "I hadn't planned on joining the fucking fighting. Conveniently believed I'd be hacking and spying my entire life. Next thing I know, it's, it's-"

"Cull or be culled," he nods, voice soft. Your eyes meet, and you hate him, you hate that there isn't an ounce of hatred on his face as he looks at you. 

"Only twenty-seven, the entire war?"

"Always in defence, as a last resort against those who saw us as disposable and subtroll," you inform him coldly, your voice strong despite the usual chaos in your thinkpan at this subject. "KK believed that if we showed compassion where it was possible, without risk to the lives in our responsibility, then the other side may lose some of it's more sensible followers to us."

"...Always the low strategist."

Strangely, his swinging back to mild quadrant sentiments wrenches you right out of your brewing shitstorm. 

"Careful, Ampora, he's not looking for a violetblood kismesis." You feel calmer now, somehow, more in control over your emotions anyway. "Also, I was mainly defense, otherwise I would've culled more, justifiably fried anyone who set out to exterminate us."

He looks at you, and you glare because it's somewhat disbelieving. 

"Anyway, what's your fucking answer? Yes, you'll see FF, or no you won't?" You quickly snarl before he says anything. You're still technically unstable and you should still probably leave. 

"Captor-"

"Hurry up so I can go already," you snap, knowing damn well he was going to comment on your previous topic of discussion. That seems to revert him back to his usual loathing self, as he snarls at you.

"Fuck you, Captor, you irritating mutant pissblood! Yes, my answer to Fef is a yes, and don't you dare sabotage m-"

"Shut up, Ampora, I have this thing called integrity."

" _You?_ Integrity?" His gravelly voice actually goes higher in both pitch and volume, and the fact that it's genuine instead of put-on makes you want to strangle him. 

"Fuck you, yes me," you growl. "Don't even think about bringing up the spy thing. At least I wasn't killing oppressed trolls who wanted a better life."

Instead of replying with his own twisted view of said trolls, Ampora actually keeps silent, the anger on his face still present but mixed with something else. You watch as he takes a deep breath, exhales, and grimly speaks. 

"Captor. Whatever you think of me, is only fuel to this...thing we have," he says, and you roll your eyes in disbelief. "The past is not within my ability to change."

"Oh please. Like you'd even want to change it, if you could-" Gog you don't really want to know and you wish you'd shut up but you aren't always in control of your mouth around him. 

"Yes, I would." he says quietly, and you still, the throb of your bloodpusher ringing in your ears.

You quickly force your mind into replaying his every move, including his current discomfort. It seems genuine, and you are so fucking confused. He spouts that genocidal hemospectrum bullshit and proclaimed hatred for the Rebels and then displays this other side when you grill him deep enough. It's not like his whole highblood Commander front was ever flimsy; perhaps he is just changing his views with the currents of his situation. 

A real fish in water. 

"Okay." You say, because you're tired and you need your moirail. "I'll relay your acceptance of our Empress's invitation. She'll be...well, I have no idea how she feels about any of this, really."

He nods, and then returns to his cushions. You suspect that he's quite spent as well from your long drawn-out conversation. 

Your eyes land on the stacks of books. "KN brought you those?"

He suddenly looks sheepish, and you can guess what the contents of the books are. "Yes... She said that I 'may reach redemption by my own efforts, if not forgiveness'. Basically refused to bring me anything other than...romance novels and gardening guides..."

"Gardening?" You stifle the sudden rise of mirth. DeathGlow sometimes really makes your day. 

"And the art of sewing and clothesmaking," he adds miserably. You raise your eyebrows at him. 

"Thought you might like those, actually."

"Fuck you, Sol." He seems to contemplate that. "I do, come to think of it. I don't think I ever appreciated the kinda lady Kan is."

"Better not be trying for a quadrant, Ampora, or Wrathful really will kill you."

You move towards the lamp on your side, burning low. Extinguishing the light, so that only the glow of his lantern remains, you turn to finally make your exit. 

"Sollux?"

The full use of your first name stops you in your tracks, the back of your neck prickling. You turn to look at his form, barely visible in this distance under the dim light. 

"What, Ampora?"

"Why didn't you inform me of Fef's victory against Condescension?"

You exhale, biting your lip. 

"The last time you...were here. Kar and Leijon came not long after. He let slip that you were supposed to tell me about it."

Damn it, KK. 

"I don't fucking know, Ampora. I just didn't want..." You run your hand through your hair in agitation. "I don't know, okay? Who cares."

"Right." He says, and it doesn't sound mocking or particularly resentful. "Well... I just wondered."

"Stop wondering." You jab, sparking slightly so you can start your ascent without any fatal wrong steps. "Bye, fishface. I'll return once FF hears your response."

"Looking forward to it, pissblood."

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued :x
> 
> This story is driven by my bottom!sollux needs and there isn't even a firm grip on the wheel so...perhaps best to keep expectations low! Sorry! 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Feedback appreciated, as always.


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